The Ring
by Minch
Summary: Klingons take over Enterprise. It's up to Malcolm Reed to save the day, once again!
1. Boarded

**Summary**: In between "Marauders" and "The Expanse". A bit of Lord of the Rings crossover, but nothing beyond referencing the books and characters.

**Spoilers:** 1st and 2nd seasons in general, so be forewarned.

**Disclaimer:** I know, I know, I don't own any Star Trek. Nor do I own Lord of the Rings. Or Ensign Müller, he belongs to **volley**. I promise he'll have stuff to do in this story!

THE RING- Chapter One

"Tactical alert. All hands, tactical alert." Malcolm had already dropped the well-worn book he was reading, The Hobbit, on the bed and was sprinting out of his door toward the turbolift. He made it about five feet before an explosion rocked the deck under his feet and sent him hurtling headfirst into a bulkhead.

It stunned him momentarily, but he jumped back up to his feet and continued, staggering a little. He pressed the button to summon the lift, but it did not appear. Just then, the lights flickered and sputtered out, leaving Malcolm in total darkness before the emergency lights clicked on. Realizing that, if auxiliary power was on, the turbolift would, of course, be shut off. He darted over to one of the access tubes that he knew led to the hallway between the captain's ready room and the Bridge. Just as he started to go up, he heard the lift doors open.

In the darkness he could not see the figures clearly, but he could tell they were not crewmembers. Malcolm, much to his constant irritation and humiliation, was on the small and short side for a human male, but even his SIC Ensign Müller did not tower over him like these fellows did.

They began to speak in a language he could not understand, but the guttural words sounded like the little Klingonese he had heard. As one of them turned, he glanced at the head and noticed the unmistakable ridges on the forehead. Definitely Klingon. There probably four or five of them by now, standing right in front of the ladder Malcolm was climbing. He did not dare move an inch or they would have him for sure. He had dealt with them before, at the deuterium mining colony they had liberated from near-slavery at a Klingon freighter crew's hands, and on one of their battle ships that had been sinking into a gas giant. They were expert shots, but preferred to use blades called _bat'leths_ and _mek'leths_ in close combat. He could see the unmistakable shadows of the weapons on the Klingons' shoulders, and at their belts. He wracked his brains, trying to remember if Klingons could see or hear well in the dark.

It did not matter if they could, for one of them turned suddenly and looked directly at him. Malcolm reacted immediately, bowling into that one and knocking him down. He sprinted off down the corridor, half-expecting disruptor shots to follow him, but none did. There were shouts and sounds of heavy feet coming instead. He kept running, unexpectedly finding himself by Trip's quarters. He hurried over, punched the button that opened the door and went in. As he expected, Trip was not home. The Klingons apparently had not seen him, for Malcolm soon heard their footfalls stampede right past the door.

No, they had stopped right in front of Trip's door. Malcolm tensed, ready to fight his way out of this if need be. There was silence for a few moments, then the Klingons began talking all at once. Arguing, by the sound of it. Malcolm risked a glance around Trip's quarters and spied a communicator on the desk. He snatched it up, tuning the UT for Klingon-to-English. He turned down the volume as much as he could and held it to the door.

It caught on to their argument and began to spit out a translation. " –heard something come down here!"

"You must of heard wrong. I am shocked to think a soldier of the Empire would allow himself to be delusional on a mission of this importance!"

"And the thing that ran into me? Was that a delusion as well?!"

"Obviously it was one of the crew. Check every door on this deck. And you, stand guard at the lift. We'll catch the _pataQ_!" The UT refused to translate that last word, but, if what Malcolm had heard was true, it was a word one would not use in the presence of polite company. He waited for them to tramp away before he dared to move a muscle. Then, before they could return, he dropped the communicator on the bed and quickly opened the door and shot a look to both sides. No one was within sight, but B deck was not very big; they were close. He had to get to an access tube.

As quietly as he could, he made his way down the corridor, not toward the turbolift, but away from it. Just as he began to wonder where his security teams were, he heard shouts coming toward him. Before he could react, a door next to him slammed open and knocked him to the ground. It was one of the few doors on _Enterprise_ that opened on hinges and not as a sliding door. The wind knocked out of him and his head spinning wildly, all Malcolm could do was watch as the Klingons pulled out disruptors and fired on the team that had just come up the corridor, sending all of them sprawling to the deck in front of him.

When the battle was over, the leader said something in Klingonese to the others. Then – Malcolm's heart leapt into his throat– the Klingon looked directly at him. Unable to move or even shout, Malcolm waited for the disruptor to fire, or the blade to slice him open. But nothing happened; the intruders simply stomped away without a backward glance.

Slowly, Malcolm regained movement in his limbs. As he sat up, careful not to move too fast and make his vertigo even worse, something fell off of his left index finger. Picking it up, he saw it was a ring. A simple, plain ring. _Rather like Bilbo's ring_, a small voice in his head said. Suddenly, he realized why the Klingon had not seen him. The ring was _exactly_ like Bilbo's ring: it made him invisible.

Memories flooded his mind, particularly the Christmas he had received his copy of The Hobbit from his uncle Archie, who later had taken him aside and pulled the ring out of his pocket. He gave it to little Malcolm, telling him that it would turn him invisible if he put it on. The boy Malcolm, his childlike spirit not yet stamped out by his father's iron discipline, believed him. There was many a time when the rain kept him and Madeline inside that he would put it on and hide in the attic, pretending that no one could see him. Of course, he outgrew the make-believe, but kept the ring in a little nook he had carefully carved into the book's hard cover so as not to lose it. Apparently, he had slipped it on when he had begun reading, for old time's sake.

The logical part of his mind belittled him for believing in the ring's magic. The Hobbit was a wonderful story, but pure fantasy. Still, he felt better with it on. Putting it on, he cautiously rose to his feet and walked haltingly toward the access tube he'd been trying to reach before getting knocked down by the door. He had to stop the Klingons.

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

**A little short, I know, and it doesn't make sense, but it will in the end! That is, if I can update any time soon.**


	2. Forming A Plan

**I'm shortening the time period in which this story takes place to in between "Judgment" and "The Expanse". I know, I said there would be spoilers for the 1****st**** and 2****nd**** season, but I might slip up and write about something from a later season. Not the actual events, just character details that come to light, i.e. in "Affliction" and "Divergence".**

THE RING- CHAPTER TWO

Malcolm climbed the ladder up to A–deck and slipped out into the small room housing sensors. Not the hallway he wanted, but it was close enough. He could still hear what was taking place on the other side of the door. From the sound of it, the last of the bridge crew was being hustled off in the turbolift. He wanted to storm on to the bridge and stop these intruders, but his tactical mind knew that he would be overpowered and end up in the same boat as the rest of the crew. No, he had to get in contact with the captain, and probably Müller as well, to organize a plan for the retaking of _Enterprise_.

Knowing there was nothing else he could do from this position, he hurried back down the access tube, this time descending almost three decks. Just before he came to the opening in the tube on to D-deck, he opened a door in the side that went into the crawlspaces above the deck. There were a few out-of-the-way computer consoles tucked away up here that he could use.

Calling upon his hacking skills, he broke into the main computer. He accessed the internal sensors and pulled up a map of _Enterprise_. On a normal day, he should have read 81 human biosigns, a Vulcan, a Denobulan, a canine and an assortment of other signs emanating from Phlox's menagerie. Now, he read all of those biosigns and fifteen Klingons. _Only fifteen?_ In spite of himself, Malcolm felt a little disappointed in his crew. To be completely crippled by only fifteen Klingons! Anyway, back to business.

The Klingons were confining the crew to quarters, but not all of them: four humans, a Vulcan and a Denobulan were being escorted toward the Cargo Bays. _That'll be the rest of the command crew_, he surmised. If he could sneak down there, maybe get in contact with the captain, he would have a clearer picture of how to begin his rescue plan. Before leaving, he checked the map again. Now they were in Cargo Bay Two and all but one of the Klingons were standing on the other side of the door, or walking away from it. The six people he was more concerned about were in the corner furthest from said door. Right next to a vent, Malcolm realized he smiled grimly.

~0~0~0~0~0~

Glancing out of a higher-up vent than the one he really wanted, Malcolm saw this was going to be a lot harder than he had previously anticipated. From his vantage point, he observed that there was not much of a way to talk to the captain, or to any one of the hostages for that matter, without being discovered. About to move on, the conversation below caught his attention. The one Klingon left in the room, presumably the leader of the boarding party, said something in his own language. Hoshi immediately translated.

"He says that he's capturing you to collect the price."

Archer looked up. "Price?"

"You most likely earned a bounty after your escape from Rura Penthe," T'Pol clarified in her usual, unflappable manner. She may have continued if the Klingon who was speaking had not glared at her.

The Klingon possibly realized how fruitless this confrontation was without both parties being able to understand Klingonese, so he pulled a device out of his pocket and switched it on. It took a moment but the UT, as it was, caught on to his speech and began to translate. "– prisoners of the Klingon Empire. With the exception of Archer, you will be sent with a trade delegation to an Orion processing station." The tall alien glared at the group. "However–"

"Captain Kramur!" The UT picked up on another Klingon's voice as he entered the bay. "One of the crewmembers is unaccounted for: the security officer Reed."

The Klingon captain switched off the UT and angrily strolled toward the other one, talking in an increasingly loud voice. He apparently was berating the offending subordinate and sent him double-timing out of the room. Kramur rounded on the hostages and turned the UT back on.

"Where is he?"

Archer remained unperturbed. "I don't know." He was backhanded in the face for that, and nearly knocked over by the force of it. He only remained standing when Trip and Travis caught him from behind.

"Answer the question, human! Where is your security officer?!" Archer kept silent. Kramur did not strike him again. Instead, he backed up a little and continued talking. "We will look for him on our own, but if he is not found soon, I will question each of you, starting with you," he said with a leer to Hoshi, who gave him a drop-dead glower in return.

_I'm going to make you live to eat those words_, Malcolm thought ferociously at the filth. Of all the crewmembers on board _Enterprise_, he was the most protective of Hoshi.

The Klingon captain moved off into a corner where he continued to ogle Hoshi furtively. She threw another scowl and stepped behind Archer. The proverbial saying 'if looks could kill' did not begin to express the positively lethal glare he was giving the Klingon. With that, Malcolm continued to make his way down to the vent he had been trying to reach all along. He knew he was moving along nearly silently, but T'Pol's sensitive hearing picked up on him. She was looking directly at the grate when he came into view. However, she did not look _at_ him. Oh yes, she was looking at the vent, but it was as if she could not see him.

_The ring_, he thought with a grimace. But he could not take it off, for at that moment two Klingons enter the Cargo Bay, speaking one over the other. Kramur called for silence. "Talk, Mortaag."

"We accessed internal sensors. They show that the missing human is somewhere in this room." Archer and Malcolm alike flinched a little at this. _How could I be so stupid_, Malcolm berated himself. He might be invisible to the naked eye, but not to technology!

The Klingon captain snatched a hand scanner from Mortaag's belt and turned it on. He began to home in on Malcolm's location, his subordinates following him with their disruptors out and trained on the group. As he approached, the hostages moved aside, the males placing Hoshi and T'Pol behind themselves. Kramur knelt to peer through the grate. He looked directly at Malcolm, then glanced to the left and right of him. Malcolm could practically see the Klingon's thought processes working behind that thickly-ridged skull: he could not understand how both the ship's sensors, and his own handheld sensor, registered another human when it was obvious that there was not one.

He stood and stepped closer to Archer. "I will make good on my promise to question you." He motioned to the two behind him and they forward as well. "You," he barked at Hoshi, who stood behind Phlox and Trip. "Come with me!"

"No." All Denobulans, Vulcans, and visible humans present, spoke with utter and finality. Kramur raised a hand to swat the doctor and chief engineer out of his way when Archer spoke alone.

"Wait. I'll go with you quietly if you let the rest of my crew go." Kramur sneered down at him.

"I'll take you whether you go quietly or not." At that point, Malcolm could not stand it any longer. He kicked the vent open. While the group near him stared at the grate that had flown off its hinges of its own accord apparently, he scuttled out of the hole and away from them. A good thing too, for they all took it as a signal to begin beating the Klingons up.

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

**I know, another short chapter, but I'm out of time, so I'll let you all chew on this for a bit while I write the next one. Hopefully it won't be more than three or four updates longer, but I really don't know where this plot bunny is taking me.**


	3. More Troubles

THE RING- CHAPTER THREE

Instantly, Malcolm spun around toward the fight. Rather inappropriately, he thought of The Hobbit. Did not Bilbo jump into a fight while wearing the ring? No, he had just been running toward the goblin's back door when the fight started on top of him.

His people were giving it all they had. Trip and T'Pol ganged up on the larger of the two subordinates, the chief engineer dealing punches and kicks while the first officer utilized her skill in _Suus mahna_. The Klingon was rather slow to adjust to the new situation, as was normal for his species. He was overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught and barely able to hold his own. Travis and Hoshi were contending with Mortaag. The helmsman's height did not much compare to the Klingon's but, combined with the strength he had received from hours of weightlifting in the gym, he had a good chance. Hoshi proved her expertise in aikido with every kick and punch.

Malcolm turned his attention to Kramur. Archer was doing his best, but he was no match for the Klingon captain. Like Travis, he had a bit of help from his tall stature, but it was not enough to combat Kramur. For his credit, Phlox managed to land a few punches, but as a doctor and not a fighter, his heart just was not in it. Malcolm made a split second decision and joined that fight. Careful not to wallop on either of his crewmates, he proceeded to beat Kramur up. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Archer's eyes widen at the sight of the Klingon getting pummeled by invisible hands. Precisely, Malcolm thought wryly. With a final clout between his eyes, Kramur fell to the deck unconscious. Breathing hard, Malcolm glanced around him. The other two Klingons were also out for the count. All of his crewmates, especially Archer, were staring at Kramur as if they could not truly believe that he was also defeated.

"Trip," Archer's voice came out a bit hoarsely as he panted for breath. "Tell me I'm not going crazy, and that you just saw this Klingon get beaten up by something that wasn't there too."

"I did, Cap'n," was the astonished reply, followed by a chorus of similar remarks from the other officers. This prompted Malcolm to make a move to take off the ring, but the cargo bay doors opened unexpectedly. Yet another Klingon appeared, this one a bit on the small side. For a Klingon, on the small side meant that he was a bit less than six feet tall. But his height was not the focus of anyone in the room; it was who he held in his arms with a _mek'leth_ poised at her throat. Crewman Elizabeth Cutler, eyes wide with terror, stared back at them.

"Now, if you don't do as I say, this pretty little thing will come to great harm," the Klingon said with vicious relish. He shook the knife and his hostage a little to show that he meant business, glancing at the pile of his unresponsive crewmates. "There will be punishment for this outrage, but I have more pressing things to take care of. Now, hands on your heads, and go in front of me." All of them, save Malcolm of course, followed his orders, not daring to disobey for fear of Elizabeth's life. They went in front of him and were greeted by another Klingon in the corridor, this one holding Crewman Joanna Kelly captive with a disruptor. She did her best to appear calm, but when she made eye contact with the captain, her façade slipped a little and tears glistened in her eyes.

"Move," Cutler's captor ordered gruffly. The one with Kelly dragged her with him to the front of the line, leading the recaptured crew back to the turbolift. He motioned for Trip, T'Pol and Travis to get into the lift, following them with Kelly still in his grasp. Malcolm saw their plan immediately: there was not enough room in the lift for all of them, so they took two hostages to insure that the group left behind would cooperate. The other captives began to trudge off toward Archer's quarters, located on the outer edge of E–deck. He followed as stealthily as he could. When they arrived at the right door, the Klingon pressed the button to open it and shoved Archer forward. Before entering, Archer turned around to address the Klingon, pure fury smoldering in his eyes.

"How do I know that you won't hurt my people after we do what you want?"

"You have my word. A Klingon's word is his honor."

"Honor?" Archer scoffed at what he considered a singularly unsuitable term for the Klingon to use.

"I am not the one who ordered this takeover, human. I am merely following the orders." With that, he propelled Archer into the room and locked the door behind him. Then, he led Phlox, Hoshi and Elizabeth back to the lift. Malcolm pursued, mulling over the conversation that had just transpired.

As they reached the lift, Malcolm became aware of another problem: there was no way he could fit in the turbolift with the others and not be discovered. He would have to race the lift via the ladders between decks. Not making a sound as he half-sprinted/half-tiptoed toward an access tube, he began to climb up to C–deck where Phlox's, Hoshi's and Cutler's quarters were. He barely made it up when they went by. Still invisible, he shadowed them until everyone was locked in their quarters. He allowed himself a small sigh of relief when he saw that Kelly was back and unharmed in the quarters she shared with Cutler.

The Klingon now walked swiftly back to the lift as the other one joined him from taking Travis back to his quarters, also located on C-deck. While they waited for the lift, they spoke to one another, apparently forgetting that their UT was still on. "That was remarkably easy," the shorter one mentioned.

"Retaking the command crew or taking over from Kramur," the other questioned sarcastically, causing the first to grin with mirth.

"In truth, M'Jer, both. Kramur has been suspicious of his second- and third-in-command for some time now. He wouldn't dream of little Koltur, his fourth-in-command, planning and pulling off a successful coup." He tapped his foot impatiently as the lift had not yet arrived. "I suppose it's a blessing that the humans knocked all three of them out for me. It'll be much easier to take care of them now," he added in a voice so sinister, a chill went down Malcolm's spine, in spite of himself.

"What about the humans," M'Jer asked next. Koltur answered with a slight smirk.

"I've learned a few things about Archer from some trusted sources: he is a brilliant captain, but pathetically weak and soft when it comes to his crew. I knew that, if he even tried to stop us, he would falter if I took a few hostages." The lift arrived and they entered it while continuing their discussion.

"You don't plan to 'question' them as Kramur would have?" M'Jer's smirk turned absolutely lecherous. Koltur, however, snorted in disgust and M'Jer's leer fell.

"Kramur is a traitor to the empire. To even consider mating with an obviously inferior, not to mention ugly, species–" The doors closed, cutting off the rest of Koltur's statement.

Malcolm's mind was positively spinning. He sorted through all of the info he'd overheard. The main point was that Koltur, the fourth-in-command, had overthrown his captain and taken command himself, apparently scheming to do away with his three superior officers. Malcolm hoped he could trust his SIC more than Kramur trusted his. With that thought, he made his way back to the ladder. He had to get in contact with Müller and, hopefully, devise a rescue plan.

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

**The next installment probably won't be put on for over a week, so I wrote this one early. Please, if you like this story, recommend it to your friends. And leave a review, too!**


	4. Playing With the Comm

**I'm back, and still have no idea how much longer this monstrosity will take to write! Wishing for more reviews so, PLEASE, if you've read this far, just drop a line. If you're a writer, you know how much a reader's encouragement boosts an author's confidence.**

**The chapters have been a little short so far, but from now on I'm going to try to put in closer to 3,000 words instead of my usual 1,000. Also, for any LOTR fans out there, I know that the ring in ****The Hobbit**** becomes the One Ring later on. For all intents and purposes in this story however, it's just a ring that turns the wearer invisible, not THE Ring that turns them into power-hungry madmen.**

**I promised **volley** in the beginning that her original character Ensign Bernhard Müller would have stuff to do in this piece. I am also borrowing the idea of using the comm to eavesdrop from **Kathy Rose**'s story "Tracked".**

**German translation: **_**Gott in Himmel**_** = God in Heaven**

THE RING- CHAPETER FOUR

Malcolm had a newly-found respect for Trip. He had been trying to redirect communications through the EPS grid for some time now, only to receive a few nasty shocks for his trouble. He was an armoury man, not an engineer for God's sake! On the other hand, he was thankful that Trip had not completely dismantled the rerouting he had set up almost a year ago, when the Suliban had taken over _Enterprise_. If he could just get some power going through it again and rewire it to contact with Müller on C–deck, they might have a chance.

Hissing a few choice swears, he bit back a yelp as he collected yet another shock. Dropping the hyperspanner he had procured from a storage locker down the corridor, he stumbled backward and nearly fell on to his bunk, cursing a blue streak. After the pain subsided minimally, Malcolm glared at his hand. This was really getting ridiculous. Besides, he did not have time to spare.

_Back up a step_, he told himself. _Pretend that it's part of the circuitry in the Armoury._ Within minutes of using that approach, he got a connection. "Müller, can you hear me," he said as loudly as he dared into the comm. "Ensign, respond."

"Lieutenant Reed, is that you," came the incredulous response. As stoic and unflappable as his SIC could be in the midst of a crisis, sometimes he was insufferable.

"Yes, Ensign. What–"

"_Gott im Himmel_! How on Earth did you escape the Klingons?!"

"I'll tell you later. Now, before the Klingons catch me, tell me what the situation is. I haven't been in contact with anyone since I went off duty an hour ago." Malcolm spoke in a tone that promised a month of scrubbing plasma conduits on D–deck if his SIC did not get a grip. Müller took the hint and settled down.

"We were still orbiting that new planet when the Klingons transported on board. From where they came, I have no clue. I was on the bridge at my station at the time. The captain ordered tactical alert, but only a few seconds before the Klingons knocked out main power."

"How did the Klingons take the ship so quickly?" Malcolm wondered aloud. Müller readily supplied the answer.

"We did fight sir, but there were a lot more Klingons. I got a glance at their biosigns from the tactical station before it shut down, and it looked like there were at least twice, maybe three times as many on board as there are now!" Malcolm made a mental note to recommend to the captain that he schedule more target practice and even hand-to-hand combat sessions for the crew. Müller's voice drew him back to the situation at hand. "Any ideas on how to retake _Enterprise_, sir?"

"I'll come and unlock your door, as well as the doors of the rest of the armoury team. Can you think of anyone else who could help?" Malcolm could think of four or five people himself, but he decided to see how well Müller could coordinate a response on his own, at least partially.

"The captain is a fair hand with a phase pistol, and maybe Crewman Rossi from the astrometrics lab. She can hold her own against most of the armoury guys."

_Good_, Malcolm thought approvingly. "I'll be along presently Ensign. Reed out." With that, Malcolm switched the comm off and carefully pressed the button for the door to his quarters to open. He stuck his head out, which went against all of his training as a security officer, but he still had the ring on. Seeing no one, he hurried down the corridor to one of the fourteen weapons lockers of the ship. Grabbing a phase pistol, he was about to snatch up the rest he would need when he heard footsteps tromping towards him. Before he had a chance to put the pistol back or even run, a Klingon appeared at the other end of the corridor.

Malcolm's training kicked in and he found himself shooting the Klingon before he really knew _what_ he was doing. As expected, the Klingon dropped like a stone. Great, Malcolm mentally berated himself. Now I have to hide him.

Somehow, he eventually hauled the seven foot alien down the hall and locked him in his own quarters. There really was not anywhere else to put the brute. After a moment's consideration, Malcolm decided that it would be even safer to put him in the lavatory. For one, it was a lot smaller, not that his quarters were anything fancy. For another, at least in the bathroom, there were not any computer consoles for him to hack into. After taking more time to lug the Klingon into the bathroom, and jimmying the lock from the outside, he finally made his way back to the locker. Upon reaching it, Malcolm realized that he had another problem: there was no way he could carry the eight pistols that he, Müller, the captain, Rossi and the other four crewmembers on the armoury team would be using. Then he had a brain spark: his uniform had several pockets, some large enough to hold a phase pistol.

A moment later, feeling very much the fool for loading himself up like a pack mule in guns, Malcolm made his way toward the access tube. That took some negotiation with all of the extra bulk he bore, but he managed and came out on to C-deck without a soul in sight. Taking care not to rattle the pistols together, he lightly jogged down the corridor to Müller's door. Just as he was about to open it, he remembered the ring. He didn't want to have to explain _that_ to anyone, so he glanced around him, stood stock still listening for a bit, and then slid it off. He unzipped one of his arm pockets and dropped it in. _Now_ I'm ready to start this, he thought. And with that, he opened the door.

~0~0~0~0~0~

It wasn't easy trying to sneak down from C–deck to E–deck via ladder with six extra people in tow and no ring on. The coup nearly ended twice when a Klingon passing the ladder thought he heard something. One even stuck his head in, but it was thankfully too dark for him to see. Somehow, they made it to the Captain's quarters unseen. Archer was certainly surprised when his door opened and his missing armoury officer ducked in.

"Malcolm! What–"

"Later, sir," Malcolm cut him off. "We're about to begin the retaking of _Enterprise_." Even in all of the urgency, Malcolm found it in himself to give his captain a wry smirk. "Would you care to join us sir?" That was all the convincing Archer needed. He seized the pistol Malcolm offered him, and was about to start out of the room when the lieutenant stopped him.

"Actually sir, it might be better if we conferred in here." Archer was about to ask why when the rest of the rescue troupe followed Malcolm inside. Once they were somewhat settled, they began to make their plans. Something that became obvious to all of them was that there were now eleven Klingons to deal with, since Malcolm had already taken care of one and the command crew had knocked out Kramur, Mortaag and another one the cargo bay fight. There was no telling how many they would be able to pick off before the rest noticed that something odd was happening.

"That is, if they don't happen to glance at internal sensors and see eight human biosigns where there should be just one," Rossi added.

"Captain?" Malcolm waited until he had Archer's attention. "I'd like to volunteer myself for a reconnaissance–"

"No." Archer said it quietly, but firmly.

"Sir, we have no idea of how to proceed. My thought is that I can access internal sensors, find out where the Klingons are and report back." Archer considered Malcolm's case while the latter waited more or less patiently. He knew what was going through his captain's mind right now. Like that time nearly a year ago when Malcolm had been pinned to _Enterprise_'s hull by a mine, Archer was loth to let anyone of his crew be hurt, or put in unnecessary danger. Malcolm could sympathize with this, having his own subordinates that he, (though he would never admit it), sometimes watched over like a mother hen.

"Well, sir?" Malcolm prodded gently. The captain looked at his armoury officer with an expression of reluctant acceptance.

"If I let you go, you're gonna enlighten me of the events in Cargo Bay 2." That tactic took Malcolm by surprise. All he could do was try not to look too much like a deer in the headlights.

"Sir?" That query came from not only him, but from a good many of the other people present.

Archer just smiled knowingly. "Don't play innocent with me, Lieutenant. I don't know how you pulled off that stunt, but I look forward to your explanation."

Embarrassed and discomforted by his CO's intuition, all Malcolm could do was mutter a quick "Aye sir" before scurrying out of the room without so much as waiting to be dismissed. At the last second, he remembered that he was supposed to be on the lookout for Klingons. None were coming, but for safety, he unzipped his pocket and slipped the ring on. He could not take any chances.

~0~0~0~0~0~

Malcolm was really getting tired of having to crawl through the innards of _Enterprise_ and not being able to use the turbolift like a normal person. However, being invisible disqualified him from the Normality Club, so he would have to work with what he had. Making his way back to the out-of-the-way computers was hot, gruelling work, but it was not like he had much of a choice. When he finally arrived, he allowed himself a few seconds of rest before getting to work.

The sensors showed that the Klingons had redistributed themselves since he had last looked. There were three on A–deck, one on B –knocked out in his quarters– and one on C, two on D, three on E, one on F and the last on G. They appeared to be roaming the corridors keeping watch, except for two of them on the Bridge. Malcolm was about to move on when he screeched to a halt and recounted the Klingon biosigns. There were only twelve. He had a feeling that the three missing were the three who had been involved in the cargo bay fight. For all he knew, the fourth-in-command Koltur had blown them out of an airlock. While part of him was quietly shocked, another part was relieved. That was just three less Klingons he'd have to worry about. Malcolm knew that having such a notion was entirely callous, but he did not have the time to reflect any longer.

Another thought occurred to him: some time ago, Hoshi had given him and a few others a crash course in the more complex uses of the intraship comm system, including how to use it for eavesdropping. They could access the comms in public places like the Bridge, corridors and certain areas like Sickbay and Main Engineering, but not quarters or the Captain's Ready Room. He could try setting up a line to the Bridge to see what they were talking about, if anything.

The carrying out of that idea did not take up as much time as he thought it would, now that he knew what he was going after. As soon as he switched the comm on, angry Klingonese sounded from the console. He tied in the UT and listened to what they were saying.

"–can't figure out how to run their internal sensors or intraship communications system. K'Tre was the only one able to do that, and you have shoved him out the airlock!" So his suspicions were correct. Koltur had seized total command and disposed of his superior officers. Cruel as it was, it made things simpler for the coup.

Koltur spoke in a silky voice that made Malcolm's hair stand on end. "M'Jer, you know as well as I that he, Mortaag and Kramur would have returned to Qo'noS completely disgraced. They would have committed the _Hegh'bat_ before we even reached Klingon space rather than bring such shame to the Empire." Malcolm could guess that the _Hegh'bat_ was a form of suicide, but he also knew that Koltur was twisting events and words to excuse his actions. "What other news do you have?"

"We are now prepared to continue toward home territory. The colony has signalled that we have their leave to depart." So that was how the Klingons had come on board. There was a colony on the planet below. How the sensors missed it was a rather troubling question, but Malcolm put it aside for now and continued to listen.

"They do not know that Kramur no longer controls the ship?"

"No, Koltur, and-"

"That's _Captain_ Koltur now," the self-appointed leader snarled. Malcolm heard a sound like a sword being pulled from its sheath.

"Yes sir, _Captain_ Koltur!" M'Jer sounded sincere and little nervous when he said it. The blade sang as Koltur slid it back into its sheath.

"Go on."

"Yes, Captain. The others on board have sworn blood oaths to follow you faithfully."

"So when we arrive at Qo'noS and deliver Archer, I will be legally entitled to the bounty."

"Yes, Captain."

"Go check in with the others."

"Yes sir. I'll start with K'Hast on the last deck." Malcolm had heard enough. He thumbed the channel off and hurried back to the ladder. He would have to check in with Archer and the others before they sent a search party, then scurry up to B-deck in order to catch M'Jer before he discovered that one of his soldiers was AWOL.

He scampered down the ladder, only just remembering to glance out of the tube before exiting. He slipped the ring into its pocket and opened the door to Archer's quarters.

In hindsight, he should have called before he left the computers or pushed the doorbell, but he was in a terrible rush. As the door opened, a large pair of hands dragged him in. His own training kicked in, and he spun out of their grasp. He looked at his captor: it was Mȕller. Both of them dropped their defence as they recognised each other. "_Gott im Himmel_," Müller exclaimed for the second time that day. "I could have killed you!"

"I hope I would live in a fight against you," Malcolm quipped wryly, still breathing hard.

Then he remembered that M'Jer was making his rounds up through the decks. He had to get to B–deck _now_!

"Captain, I have to leave right away" he said quickly to Archer.

"Malcolm–" he began. On any other day, Malcolm would not have dreamed of interrupting his captain, but he lost his patience. He filled them in on what he had overheard. When he finished, Archer let him go without protest.

Malcolm opened the door and his heart nearly stopped. M'Jer and another Klingon stood a little ways down the hall, appearing to have a chat. They glanced his direction when they heard the door whoosh open, but never go the chance to do anything further. Someone behind Malcolm fired a phase pistol twice, hitting each Klingon squarely in the chest.

Wonderful! Now, they had to find the other two Klingons on the deck before they noticed what was up. Malcolm began to curse himself, mentally of course, for not being prepared when he walked out. He composed himself, and then turned around. Müller still pointed his phase pistol in the direction of the fallen Klingons, his face set with the determination and composure that made Malcolm able to trust him to keep the ship and crew safe when he himself could not for one reason or another.

"Good shot, Bernhard." The ensign gave a small smile, and then followed Malcolm out to drag one of the Klingons into a nearby storage room. Archer and Ensign Tanner joined them, picking up the second. After they had hauled and shoved the fifth and sixth Klingons to be taken down that day into the closet, they went back into Archer's quarters to discuss what to do next.

Malcolm leaned against the wall and turned to address the others. "The new Klingon captain, or the other two Klingons patrolling this deck, will realize soon that M'Jer has gone missing. He will send someone else to see what's holding him up."

"If he suspects us, he might take hostages." As soon as he said it, Tanner knew that he had brought up a touchy subject by the captain's grimace and Malcolm's barely contained scowl.

"So now what?" Rossi was doing her best not to look scared in front of the toughest guys on the ship. Malcolm felt a slightly evil grin forming.

"Begin to pick them off, before they notice." As an afterthought, he added "We may want to borrow a few hyposprays from sickbay to keep them quiet after the pistol stun wears off. There's one locked in my quarters that I'm sure has woken up by now."

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

**I know this chapter was extremely long, but I had too much fun writing it to stop! Just to let you know, the chapters are going to be this long from now on.**


	5. Six Down, Nine to Go

THE RING- CHAPTER FIVE

Outwardly, Malcolm looked like he felt totally confident in the plan of attack he and the other conspirators had designed and were now carrying out. Inwardly, he knew how much of a long shot this really was, and what would happen if it all miscarried. Oh yes, they had managed to take enough sedatives to keep their captives quiet. Fuller probably saved them when he suggested taking the time to figure out which sedative would knock a fully grown Klingon out for the longest amount of time, without doing any permanent damage. The one they had picked out would keep the Klingons unconscious for four hours.

_That man is going to make a brilliant armoury officer one day_, Malcolm thought as he helped pull several hypos and cartridges of the chosen sedative from Phlox's stores. Or a security chief. His talent with the torpedoes and his attention to detail completely assured that. Anyway, if Malcolm did not watch out for more details like that one, this would very quickly turn into his worst nightmare come true. Aside from drowning, failing to do his duty as armoury officer and security chief was the next biggest thing on his list of Things to Avoid at All Costs.

Bringing himself back to the present, he pulled up internal sensors on one of the monitors. The two Klingons were in the aft sections of E–deck, not at all near Sickbay, Archer's quarters, or the route in between them. Malcolm glanced at Fuller and Zabel, who returned his silent query with a thumbs-up. Together, they scooted out of the door with their prizes, back to the captain's quarters.

This time, Malcolm rang the doorbell before going in, earning a smirk from Zabel that he decided to pretend he did not see. Archer wasted no time when they entered. "Did you get 'em?"

"Yes sir." Malcolm and Fuller began to pass hypos and extra cartridges around. "The sedative will work for four hours. With any luck, we'll have control of the ship before then."

Lieutenant Foster put in his two bits as well. "I'd suggest taking the other two Klingons on this deck out first."

"Agreed," Malcolm said as he put hypos and cartridges in his pockets, though not the one with the ring. "We'll need to take care of the ones on A–deck as well." As soon as he said that, Malcolm remembered that Koltur had used those same words to describe what he would do with Kramur, Mortaag and K'Tre after he'd taken over. He pushed that unnerving reflection aside and steamrolled on. "Koltur will be wondering what happened to M'Jer by now. He may even send the other one that's up there with him down here." With that, armed with phase pistols and hypos, they left the room.

~0~0~0~0~0~

Footsteps, accompanied by Klingonese, echoed down the corridor. Malcolm glanced back at the others and hand signalled them to take what cover they could in the empty hallway. Focusing on the approaching voices, Malcolm waited until he could see movement and then opened fire.

The Klingon in his sights dropped like a stone. The other one ducked around a corner before returning fire. The others on Malcolm's side of the corridor laid down heavy fire, and it appeared they were winning until Malcolm saw Müller glance towards an access tube. Then Malcolm heard what had caught the ensign's attention: more Klingonese floating up the ladder from F–deck. Reinforcements were coming for the lone Klingon.

Archer must have heard them to, because he hissed at everyone "Fall back. Meet up near Sickbay." He nodded to Rossi, covering her escape before following. Fuller, Müller and Tanner trailed them while Foster laid down fire. Malcolm backed up while continuing to shoot just as two more Klingons burst out of the access tube. _The one on F–deck must have brought the one from G–deck_, Malcolm thought as he and Foster found cover. They both managed to get lucky shots, felling two of the Klingons. The last one had disappeared from their sights for a moment. Malcolm glanced around. There were not many places he could have gone in the middle of a firefight.

Out of the corner of his eye, Malcolm saw movement. He tried to point his phase pistol, but for some reason he could not lift his arm. He tried to shout at Foster to duck, but he could not utter a sound. He managed to stand, though it felt like he was moving through jelly. He heard the hum of an energy weapon being discharged and felt something hot brush past his arm before he fell to the deck.

As his head made contact with the deck, the slow motion snapped back into normal speed. Through rapidly blurring eyes, he saw Foster hit the Klingon square in the chest. Then the burn flared and flung him into darkness.

~0~0~0~0~0~

The darkness felt warm and comforting. There was no burning, no pain. But Malcolm knew could not relax anymore; he had to regain consciousness. He felt his heart began to speed up as he tried to force his way out into the light. As he pushed on, he heard voices.

"I think he's comin' around Doc." _What was Trip doing here?_

"His heart rate is dangerously elevated. I'll need to administer another sedative." _Phlox? He should still be locked up in his quarters._ He felt the cool touch of a hyposprays against his neck and heard it hiss as the contents were released into his system.

Before he fell under again, Malcolm distinctly heard Trip with quiet anger, "When I find out who left that knife in the corridor, I'll bust them back down to Crewman Second Class!"

Back into the warm blackness he went, but this time he remained aware. In fact, he was aware that the darkness was growing cold. He tried to get away from the chill somehow, but it overtook him almost instantly. It surrounded him, pressing in on all sides, leaving no escape. His heart raced as he realized with a flash that he was drowning. His worst nightmare was coming true. He had to swim to the surface.

But which way was up? There was no sunlight to guide him, no hunch that told him which way to go. He could not hold still long enough to float in the right direction. He floundered, and felt something pull him. Up or down, he could not tell, but it yanked him hard in one direction. His strength was ebbing away with every passing second, and suddenly Malcolm stopped thrashing. If this was to be his death, he would meet it head-on, the way a Reed should meet death. The way many of his ancestors had on their sailing ships of Earth's past. The way his great-uncle met his fate when he drowned on the submarine HMS_ Clement_. Besides, what did Malcolm, the aquaphobic coward, have to live for? His family rejected him; there was no place on Earth for him. No place in the galaxy for one like him. Maybe he should just let the thing take him.

A memory sprang unbidden into the forefront of his mind. He had spoken to Archer about his uncle when he was pinned to _Enterprise_'s hull by the mine. He had even tried to force Archer's hand in sacrificing one crewmember in order to save the rest by pulling out his own oxygen tube. Archer, however, would not have it. He had shared his own oxygen supply with Malcolm until they figured out a plan to save Malcolm, and the rest of the crew.

Instantaneously, the memories from the almost two years he had been with _Enterprise_ came pouring in. Pushing against the thing that was dragging him away, he made for the memories, reliving them as he escaped the grip of the cold darkness. There he was with Trip, freezing to death in the shuttlepod while getting drunk on Kentucky bourbon and laughing like lunatics. There was the captain, Trip and Hoshi in the armoury with a pineapple birthday cake for him. How they ever found out pineapple was his favourite, he would never know. Nearly getting hanged with Captain Archer at his side over a lost communicator, taking refuge in the Catwalk while the crew waited out a week-long neutronic storm. Barely two weeks ago had he snuck into and out of a Klingon prison colony on Rura Penthe in order to break the captain out.

Those people, the entire crew of _Enterprise_, were what Malcolm had to live for. Somehow, he found the strength to break free of the darkness' grip. He broke the surface, gasping for breath. "Hang on Malcolm. You'll be fine."

He was in Sickbay. Archer and Rossi were finishing up a bandage where the disruptor fire had grazed him. Foster appeared with a medical scanner in hand. He began to run the sensor over Malcolm. Thoroughly embarrassed, Malcolm asked, "Captain?"

"Take it easy. That last shot gave you a nasty burn."

"And a minor concussion." Foster added as he put the scanner away. Archer put a hand on his shoulder when Malcolm tried to sit up. The room spun, and for an awful moment Malcolm thought he might be sick in front of the captain. But the dizziness passed without incident. He glanced at Archer.

"What about the Klingons, sir?" He really wanted to ask why he had heard Trip talking about a knife or something left in the corridor, but he felt that would only convince Archer that he was unfit for the mission. He would sort it out later with Trip.

"Foster brought you to Sickbay. Müller went back with Fuller, Zabel and Tanner to give them a sedative and hide them in the closet with the other two. They should be back any time now." On cue, the doors whooshed open to admit the aforementioned security team, looking tired but unharmed.

Malcolm looked at Archer. "Now that we're all here, shouldn't we get moving again?"

Archer looked back at him with a slight air of concern. "Are you sure Malcolm? You were just out for at least five minutes."

"I'm fine sir, and we don't really have the time." Archer could not argue with that, but as they left Sickbay, he stayed close to Malcolm. This was exceptionally annoying and humiliating, but there really was not a way to tell his CO to let him be. To tell the truth he was feeling a little disoriented, and the burn in his side was prickling with every move he made. He kept all of this behind a mask of determination.

"Sir?" Everyone turned to look at Zabel. "We have no idea where the rest of the Klingons are. How many have we taken out already?"

Tanner counted them up on his fingers. "Three from the cargo bay, one that Lieutenant Reed got on B–deck, the three from this deck, the two from F– and G–decks, and the other one. What did you say his name was? M'Jer. So that's ten, leaving five."

"We should find out exactly where they are instead of sneaking around looking for them," Archer said.

"This way, sir," Malcolm said as he made for the access ladder, back to the niche with the computers. He and the others climbed the ladder up a deck and a half. Malcolm was glad that the lighting was low. The burn was flaring wave upon wave of pain through his body, and he knew it was telling on his face besides his best efforts to quell it.

No. If he could beat the Klingons, he could most certainly beat the pain. He would have to overcome the latter in order to defeat the former anyway. With that mind-set, he started up the computer while the other seven filed into the crawlspace. Malcolm accessed the eavesdropping comm line he set up earlier and tied in the UT. He also brought up a security image of the Bridge.

Surprisingly, four of the five remaining invaders were on the Bridge. The last, an older Klingon, arrived by turbolift and approached Koltur. "The humans have vanished. They were on the fifth deck in the medical room, but–"

"But you lost track of them, like an old feeble _targ_ pursuing its prey is outwitted by it." The older Klingon wisely held his tongue. Koltur rounded on the other Klingons working feverishly at T'Pol's station.

"Have you brought the sensors online yet?!"

"K'Tre was the only one with the knowledge to operate these instruments," one of the youngest said. "M'Jer and six others have vanished."

"All the more reason to get the sensors working," Koltur all but shouted.

"Malcolm." Malcolm looked at Archer, whose eyes tracked Koltur as he stomped over to the communications console. "Can you freeze the turbolift and side doors?"

"I believe so sir. I'll have to lock each of them manually, but it can be done."

"Go ahead. We'll work on freeing the rest of the crew." The others parted to let Malcolm through. However, he went up the ladder while they went down.

When he got far enough away so that they could not see him, he slipped on the ring. He came out on A–deck, in the room where he'd been about half an hour ago. Deftly, he slipped a pin-sized hyperspanner from its storage place on the wall and got to work on the door. It was not much more complicated than locking his bathroom door had been. Once that access point was blocked, Malcolm went back down the ladder to B–deck.

At first, he glanced around in case one of the Klingons walked by, forgetting about the ring. Feeling very much the fool for forgetting about his tactical advantage, he climbed out on to the deck and strolled quietly down the hall. He saw Archer and Müller coming his way with T'Pol. They were unlocking Trip's door when Malcolm skirted by them. T'Pol once again heard him, despite his efforts to be silent. She reached out, and would have brushed his arm if Archer had not gotten the door open at that moment.

Malcolm finished off the door to the other sensor room in record time and was back on B–deck as quickly as he could manage with the burn still prickling him. He slunk down the corridor to the ladder outside of his own quarters. As he passed the door, a muffled roar jolted his senses into overkill. That Klingon had not gotten his sedative yet!

Malcolm decided he could take the time to quiet the Klingon down, though exactly how he was supposed to do that remained a mystery. Maybe he could just open the door quickly, stun the Klingon and then inject him. He opened the main door, felt for the light and entered. He pulled out his phase pistol, took aim where the Klingon's head should be, and triggered the bathroom door open.

He did not have time to fire at the blur rolling out. The blur that was the Klingon kicked the pistol out of his hand and came to a stop in the middle of the room. He glared around the small room that was made even smaller by his presence, searching for what his boot had made contact with. Malcolm realized that the Klingon had not meant to kick the pistol away; he had no idea that there was someone else in the room. Now, he had no weapons, but the Klingon had no way to tell where he was.

Something must have tipped the Klingon off, however, for he threw a fist out unexpectedly. Malcolm barely dodged it, circling around him. He jumped on to his bunk and jabbed the hypospray at the Klingon's neck. It made contact, but not before one of the Klingon's wildly swinging punches clouted him in the head. He dropped on to the bunk as stars danced in his eyes.

When most of the stars had subsided, Malcolm risked standing up. Nothing happened, no vertigo, no getting sick, which truly was a blessing. Leaving the fallen Klingon lying unceremoniously on the deck, he stumbled out of the door and made for the turbolift. Once inside, he programmed it to stop at A–deck, but keep the doors closed. He fiddled with the wiring, but for some reason, his eyesight was beginning to blur again and his head felt ready to burst.

He did not have time to consider this any further, for the doors opened and a rough hand reached inside and snatched him up like a ragdoll.

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

**Sorry, the drowning-dream sequence kind of came out of nowhere! One more chapter to go. Keep the reviews coming, please! Also a bit of cruel irony that Fuller is going to be the first crewmember to be killed in action.**


	6. Captured

**I'm adjusting the rating to T for this chapter. All previous chapters are K+.**

THE RING- CHAPTER SIX

Malcolm did not have the time to shout, much less do anything about his capture. His eyesight continued to blur and jump. When it cleared, he found himself staring Koltur in the face as the Klingon shouted something at him, while another literally held him up. Without warning, the deck rushed upward and Malcolm found himself senseless on the floor behind the helm station.

He glanced around. The Klingons were still working feverishly to restore internal sensors and communications. Strike that, the Klingons were now finished restoring sensors. "We now have control of communications as well as sensors," they told Koltur.

Koltur rushed over to T'Pol's station and ordered "Find where the rest of the crew is."

While the Klingons set about performing his command, Malcolm mulled over what had happened. They must have figured out the sensors while he was either on B–deck taking care of the Klingon in his quarters or when he was in the lift. They would found his biosign and ambushed him.

_Wait, what about my ring?_ They shouldn't have been able to see him with it on. He glanced down at his hand.

It was gone. The ring must have slipped off in his quarters.

Not now, but he would give himself a good, long lecture later for letting his guard down so easily. Cautiously, he eased himself up to get a better look at his surroundings. Three Klingons, including Koltur, were crowded around the science console. Another was working at the comm station and the last standing guard by the lift, but looking over to the science post. None of them were paying any attention to Malcolm.

He jumped to his feet, darted in between the captain's chair and the tactical station, and hurdled over the dividing rail between the Bridge and the Situation Room. Shouts of fury and surprise erupted from the Klingons. He ducked behind the table and was about to make for the door when all hell broke loose.

Energy weapons began to fire. Instinctively, he ducked back behind the table while he searched for the source. A team of liberated _Enterprise_ crewmembers poured out of the lift, shooting at the Klingons as they took cover and began to return fire. One, the Klingon closest to the lift doors, was already down, but the others showed no sign of giving up. They managed to take down two of Malcolm's people, he could not see who. Out of the blue, someone seized him up. His head spun dreadfully, but he felt something cold press to his neck.

"Drop your weapons or I'll cut his throat out," a rough voice shouted over the firefight. Malcolm's breath caught a little when Koltur pressed a small blade into his neck and drew blood. Malcolm heard phase pistols being dropped to the deck. Koltur said something in Klingonese to the others. Hurried footfalls, followed by what sounded like several people being forced to move reached his ears. Keeping his blade poised for the kill, Koltur wrapped his free arm around Malcolm's waist and carried him over to the others.

Malcolm finally had a clear view of the captives. Captain Archer, trying to be strong, but Malcolm could see the horror and fear in his eyes. Müller, ready to kill Koltur. Trip, looking altogether sickened and terrified at the sight of one of his best friends on death's doorstep.

No one moved an inch. Then Koltur spoke again. "I found this _human_," he said it like it was an offensive term, "trying to lockout the lift door. Then I discover that the rest of you are attempting an escape as well." He spat on the deck. "I'll just have to make an example of this one. To show you what happens when the will of the Empire is crossed." Malcolm knew what was going to happen next. The blade lifted off of his neck for a split second before he felt it plunge like fire into his side.

Everything was all muddled after that. Malcolm felt Koltur rip the blade back out and heard three roars of anguished fury. Koltur dropped him, leaving him to crumple on the deck in agony. There were sounds of a brief, but brutal fistfight. Then he felt gentle hands lift him up a little and put pressure on the stab in his ribs. His head came to rest on a pair of knees. Someone was frantically calling for Sickbay.

"Stay with me Lieutenant. That's an order!" Even now, far be it for Malcolm to ever disobey a direct command. Through the pain, he opened his eyes to gaze into the green eyes of Archer, the blue of Trip and the brown of Müller.

"Don't worry, Malcolm, Phlox will be here soon. You'll be fine." But Malcolm knew better. He could feel his blood seeping out of the wound even as they tried to staunch the flow. He knew that he was dying.

Then Malcolm remembered another order that Archer had given him some time ago. "Sir," he managed to whisper.

"Don't talk, Malcolm."

"Captain." No one tried to keep him quiet this time. The green eyes came closer, and Malcolm could see tears beginning to form in the corners.

"What is it?"

"You," Malcolm stopped to catch his breath, and tasted blood. The knife must have punctured a lung. "You asked how I 'pulled that stunt'."

Archer's eyes widened as he realized why Malcolm was telling him this now. "You can tell me later. Just stay with us."

Malcolm felt another thrust of pain in his side. He did not have much time. "It was," he stopped and coughed violently. Every nerve in his chest seemed to cry out in anguish as the coughing racked his frame. All three men leaned in, tears flowing freely down their faces.

"It was Bilbo's ring," Malcolm breathed as his eyes closed for the last time.

~0~0~0~0~0~

His chest still hurt, but not as badly as it had before.

Now wait a minute. He should be dead; he had felt the life seeping out of him. The constant beeping of a bioscanner, accompanied by the chirps and twitters of Phlox's menagerie told him otherwise.

Of course he would be in Sickbay, if he was hurt. But he should be dead after a stab like that.

"Lieutenant, can you open your eyes?" Was this a hallucination? One final visit to one of his least favourite places on board _Enterprise_ before he was truly gone? Carefully, Malcolm opened his eyes to see the intensely blue eyes of Dr Phlox.

"What happened?" Malcolm barely recognized his own voice. It sounded grating and hoarse.

"You hit your head on a bulkhead–"

"No, I mean the Klingons. What happened to them?" Phlox gave him a look of surprise as Malcolm proceeded to blurt out an extremely mixed-up version of what had occurred when the doors of Sickbay opened and Trip strolled in.

"Hey, Malcolm! Feelin' better?" His grin fell into a concerned frown at Malcolm's expression of utter bewilderment. "Doc, what's up with him?"

"He was just in the process of telling me. If you would, Lieutenant," Phlox pulled up two chairs from somewhere and sat down in one while gesturing for Trip to take the other. "Start at the beginning."

Malcolm took a breath and started to tell what had happened. Subconsciously, he decided to not mention the ring. He just skipped completely over it. With every passing second, Phlox's look of confusion morphed into comprehension while Trip's concern changed into total shock.

"Lieutenant, there are no Klingons." That startled Malcolm to let fly a few colourful words. "If you don't calm yourself," Phlox threatened gently, "I'll have to sedate you." That shut him up. "Now, if you will allow me to finish?"

"Go ahead, Doc," Trip said as he leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose, like he would when he was frustrated.

"Lieutenant, do you remember that you ran into a bulkhead when there was an explosion after the Tactical Alert?" Malcolm nodded dumbly. "You really did run into it. You received a rather severe concussion and have been unconscious because of it for the past half hour. All of the events that you recollect occurring after that are hallucinations." Okay. So it had all been a dream. Or a nightmare. Plausible, but if it was true, totally embarrassing.

"What caused the explosion?" Malcolm asked quietly.

"Commander, I believe you can explain better than I."

Trip nodded and picked up the explanation. "It was a drill, Malcolm. You and the Captain programmed the computer to give a drill a few days ago."

"That's right. We set up the timer to begin the drill without warning in a 72 hour window." Phlox stood a little to the side with that ever-present, infuriating smile of his.

"Yeah." Trip looked a little embarrassed about what he said next. "One of the people on my team, Crewman Alex, was really startled by the alarm. His hand hit the wrong button and caused the EPS grid to overload on a few decks. The blast must have tossed you right into the bulkhead."

"Really? I thought the explosion was caused by the Klingons–" Malcolm tried to sit up and stopped when he felt a pain in his arm. Quickly, he glanced down at it. His arm did indeed have a bandage on it, though it was much neater than the one Archer and Rossi had put over the disruptor burn.

"Lie still, Malcolm. You got your arm cut too."

"What?" Even as he said it, Malcolm remembered that when he had fallen unconscious from the disruptor and hitting his head, he'd heard Trip talking about a knife left in the corridor.

"Someone dropped their knife in the hallway." He indicated a large, slightly curved blade on the counter across from them. "You kinda fell on it and it cut your arm. When you didn't report to your station, and you wouldn't answer hails, the Captain sent me down to find you." Trip gave him a weak smile. "You gave me a nasty scare when I saw you lying there on the deck, bleedin' all over the place."

Malcolm returned the half-smile. Then he remembered another detail of his dream. "I heard you talking about it." Trip's eyes widened at this. "Have you found out who you're going to 'bust down to Crewman Second Class'?"

Trip's dumbfounded expression turned cross. "I don't know yet, but that was downright insane, dropping a knife like that and not noticing."

Malcolm's wry smile suddenly fell as well, because he knew **exactly** who the blade belonged to. Better get it off his chest now. "What if I told you that I knew who the knife belonged to?" Trip just looked at him.

No turning back now. Malcolm plunged ahead. "I believe that it may be mine. Travis wanted to see it after we went off duty. I must been holding it when the drill began." He grimaced. "Bloody stupid of me not to put it back."

Trip just gave him a smile. "Okay, okay, I'll let you off the hook this time. Just make sure you put it back when Phlox lets you out of Sickbay."

That caught Malcolm off-guard. "Why can't I leave now?" Phlox, who had let them chat for a while, stepped in.

"You have a lung infection Lieutenant. Not a dangerous one, but enough to keep you right here for a few days."

"How the hell did I get an infection on a hermetically sealed starship?!" The very question he had asked of Phlox when he caught a cold about a year or so ago.

"It originated from the mines on Rura Penthe. It has lain dormant for the past two weeks and only began to affect you when you lost consciousness."

"Why hasn't the captain caught it? He was in those mines for at least three hours before we got him out." As if on cue, the doors opened to admit said captain, hacking and coughing like a seal. Phlox strolled over with a handheld bioscanner.

"Hey Phlox. I just started coughing up a storm."

"Indeed," Phlox commented as he switched off the scanner and guided Archer to the biobed next to Malcolm's. "You have the same infection as Lieutenant Reed."

Archer glanced over at Malcolm, who was attempting to sit up straighter despite Trip holding him down. "Hey, Malcolm. You gave us all a pretty good scare. You feeling better?"

"Yes sir." Archer looked like he wanted to reply when he started coughing violently. Malcolm joined in, and they both sounded like seals until Phlox gave them each a hypo.

"This should ease the cough, but you're both going to stay here for at least three days." Malcolm closed his eyes in frustration. He would never be able to go a week without landing in Sickbay.

~0~0~0~0~0~

"Hey," Trip said as he strolled into Sickbay. It had only been a few hours since Malcolm had regained consciousness, but he and Archer were about to go insane with boredom. "I brought some stuff to cheer the two of you up."

"Good, 'cause I think we both need a diversion of some kind," Archer said. Malcolm heartily agreed. He had been going over his dream, checking every nook and cranny of it. Part of the investigation was taking inventory of all the hurts he had collected.

His head where he slammed into the bulkhead, his torso from the door, his arm from the disruptor burn, and his head from hitting the deck and getting walloped by the Klingon. Not to mention the stab from Koltur's dagger. The head injuries could be accounted for by the concussion he really had gotten from smashing into the bulkhead, the arm burn from his own knife, and the stab wound from the infection.

"I've got a whole season of Stanford's water polo team," Trip said as he handed a PADD to Archer. "And some books for you, Malcolm." He set them down on the edge of the biobed. "I also found this on your bed," he mentioned. It was The Hobbit.

"Thanks, Trip" the two patients chorused.

"Well, I gotta get back to Engineering, but I'll be around later." Trip headed out the door. Archer waved a farewell, already engrossed in the reruns of his old university's water polo team. Malcolm deliberated a moment before picking up The Hobbit. He slid his hand over the hard cover until he found the niche.

He glanced at Archer, glad to see that he was completely riveted to his PADD. Carefully, he slid a hand into the hollow and pulled out Uncle Archie's ring. He even dared to put it on his finger as he opened the book. He could still see himself, but it did not matter.

Malcolm took a breath and let himself fall into Middle-earth all over again. Bilbo, the dwarves and Gandalf were climbing up trees in order to escape the goblins and wargs…

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

** So, now it ends. Hope I didn't lose any readership when I killed off Malcolm in his dream. I have to admit, writing a character death is challenging and morbidly fun, but Mal is so much better off alive and well!**


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